


Like Magic

by SinnamonSpider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Untouched, Literally nothing even resembling a plot, Lolita!Sam, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam is 16, Sibling Incest, The Author Regrets Nothing, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonSpider/pseuds/SinnamonSpider
Summary: “Hey Dean, wanna see a trick?”And boy, if Dean had a nickel for every time he's heard that one.





	Like Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is - I have no excuse, y'all. This is just shameful pornography. I may or may not have seen a video or two that inspired it. I had the day off. Lots of free time. Yanno? 
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Feedback is amazing, although I don't deserve it because I'm basically just fulfilling my own needs here, let's be honest.

“Hey Dean, wanna see a trick?”

And boy, if Dean had a nickel for every time he's heard that one.

He looks up from his book (some erotica thing he’d swiped from the hot cheerleader he’s been flirting with every time he picks Sam up from school - Sam had laughed at him for reading it, but when he’d mentioned it to Denise she’d gone all flushed and breathy and he wasn’t a goddamned idiot) to eye his little brother.

The motel room had been quiet for the better part of an hour, which was a rarity for one inhabited by Winchesters, but Dean had been busy with his book and Sam had been...doing something. Dean isn’t sure - when he’s reading softcore porn with his brother in the room, he tries to focus, block everything else out. Like you do.

But he’s looking at Sam now, and not quite understanding what he’s seeing.

Sam is stretched out on the bed on his back, long and lean (and getting longer and leaner every damn day, it feels like) and buckass naked. Dean blinks and feels like Sam taking his clothes off is really something that should have gotten his attention.

It hadn’t, but it does now. Even as he watches, open-mouthed and shocked into silence, Sam slides a long-fingered hand down his chest, plucking and rubbing at his left nipple.

Dean’s confused as fuck, but he can’t do anything - can’t look away, can’t find his voice to ask Sam what the ever-loving fuck he’s doing. He feels frozen, like he’s trapped in his own body with nothing to do but watch.

Movement catches his eye, but it’s not Sam’s fingers still tweaking at his nipple (hard and peaked now). It’s lower; Sam’s dick, (bigger than it has any right to be on a sixteen year old, especially one who happens to be Dean’s _younger_ brother) twitching where it had been lying against his thigh. It’s perking up, jumping like a puppet on a string. In the fading afternoon sunshine, precome glints on the head.

Dean’s still just watching, too bemused to do anything more - or less. Sam’s switched nipples now, rubbing the right one, and his dick has fully come to life, rolling upwards to point towards his face, clear drops falling down to splatter on his curve of his pelvic bone.

“Okay, now watch,” Sam says, voice just a little tight, like he’s fourteen again and all into magic tricks like a fucking nerd; like Dean hasn’t been watching the whole time. Sam leaves his nipple with one final twist, and spreads his arms out to the sides, like Jesus on the cross (how fitting, Dean thinks, since he’s definitely going to hell for not stopping this).

Sam’s breathing hard, ribs expanding and contracting under tan skin. Dean’s waiting for him to reach for his dick (waiting for it, holding his own breath for it, suddenly eager for it) but Sam’s arms stay spread wide. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed with what looks more like intense concentration than pleasure.

The only movements now are small - Sam’s abs fluttering, pulling tight and releasing again, the muscles in his thighs tensing. Dean leans forward, breathless, hard and aching in his jeans but none of it matters - Sam is the only thing he can think about. Not that that’s anything new.

Suddenly, Sam’s hips jerk upward, hard - once, twice, bucking up into the air, cock bobbing around. It twitches, hard, the blood pumping visibly through the thin skin - and then Sam is coming, fucking _untouched_ , unloading creamy white blurts onto his flat stomach, his chest. His hands twist in the sheets, still spread wide, as he writhes on the bed, head thrown back against the mattress. He makes a sound like Dean’s never heard in his life, deep in the back of his throat, and Dean feels an answering sound leave his own chest, quite without his consent.

Sam gives one more little gasp as he twitches and strains through the last of his orgasm, absolutely _covered_ in his own spunk and Jesus, he must not have come for _days_ in order to have that much in him and Jesus, Dean is going to Hell. Like, that’s not even a question anymore.

Sam sits up, propping himself on his elbows, watching Dean through lazy, satisfied, slitted eyes. “Neat, huh?” he asks, voice catching just the slightest, as though he’d done nothing more than pick Dean’s card from the pack.

When Dean flees to the bathroom, it’s with the triumphant chuckles of his baby brother ringing in his ears.


End file.
